


Jolan Tru

by Smokeycut



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Multi, Open Relationships, literally everyone on the Enterprise is fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeycut/pseuds/Smokeycut
Summary: When the crew of the Enterprise-A are called to an alien planet to moderate peace talks, Kirk finds that his crew aren't the only ones sent for that purpose. Between a Romulan commander, a spy, and a pair of planets on the brink of renewed war, tensions are high and only growing higher. But tensions aren't all that's growing between the Federation and Romulan crews...(If you aren't familiar with Ael and her ship, don't worry! I'll explain everything you need to know about this version of her in the fic itself!)





	Jolan Tru

**Author's Note:**

> So... I think this is my first Trek fanfic? I had a plan for a Deep Space 9 longfic, but I wanted to do this one a lot more. Again, no familiarity is needed with the Romulan characters. Two of them come from a series of Star Trek novels by Diane Duane, and the others are minor original characters used to flesh out her crew. Their Kelvin histories will be explained in the fic itself, so even if you are familiar with them, there are gonna be at least a few surprises!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_”Jolan tru. Those two words are heard with incredible frequency both on Romulus and Romulan Warbirds. Through my study of the Romulan language (with thanks to my professor in linguistics, Hoshi Sato), I have come to understand the meaning of the words. It is a common courtesy. A greeting and a farewell. It is exchanged between military personnel, government officials, friends, family, and strangers. A conversation between Romulans that does not begin with an utterance of jolan tru is a conversation held between two people who know that one of them will not be leaving the room alive. And yet, for a culture so steeped in the personal, outward facing illusion of honor, jolan tru’s direct translation is surprising in how earnest it appears to be. I find myself wondering if, when it was first spoken, it was meant with full, open hearted feeling, rather than being the weary formality it has so clearly become._

_”Jolan tru. Love between us.”_

_~Terise Haleakala-Lobrutto_

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Kirk smiled thinly as he looked at the cards in his hand. His eyes darted back and forth, across the table, picking up minor tells from his opponents as he eased back in his plush chair. Scotty was leaning with his cheek pressed against his fist. He had a bad hand; his third in a row. Uhura’s brow furrowed slightly. She was deciding whether or not folding now would save her trouble down the road. Sulu and Chekov were watching with thinly veiled amusement, having both been forced out of the match in the eighth round. McCoy was grumbling to himself with his cards facing down. Knowing him, that could mean just about anything. Spock’s expression was as neutral as neutral could possibly be. He was as impossible to read as ever. And Jaylah…

“Oh, I will win. I know that I will,” She stated proudly, boasting in an attempt to pressure her opposing players into forfeiting the game. It was her favorite tactic, especially so now that she understood you were encouraged to mislead the other players. Although for her, misleading usually just meant declaring victory with every new hand dealt, regardless of the cards she held in her chalk colored hands. 

Yeah, she was settling into her place on the crew rather nicely, Kirk thought. They had been in dire need of a new security officer ever since Lieutenants Moran and Treva had vanished mysteriously on Delta Vega. His request for a particular Starfleet cadet, one who was already being fast-tracked through the academy, was met with reluctant agreement by higher ups, but it _was_ approved. She wasn’t yet an officer, but the cadet was more than happy to escape the classroom and rejoin her friends on the Enterprise-A. 

And of course, they were teaching her how to play fizzbin. 

There were other activities going on in the recreation deck, of course. There always were, aside from dire situations like a skirmish or invasion by a hostile alien force. A few ensigns were busy with an air hockey tournament, while lieutenant Zahra and yeoman Tamura were watching an old holo-film and holding hands as they reclined on the sofa. Ensigns Virta and Harper, joined by lieutenant M’Ress, were engaged in a spirited debate over whether 3D chess was better or worse than its two dimensional predecessor. But as far as the bridge crew was concerned, nothing mattered aside from their now hours long game of cards.

“Everyone ready?” Kirk asked, giving the table another once over. He received nods from all of his bridge crew and, with a cocky smirk written across his face, the captain revealed his hand. “King, deuce, a queen _and_ a four,” He stated with bold confidence.

“I got a bloody sralk,” Scotty bemoaned, showing his trio of jacks before dropping his head on the table with a firm thunk. Sulu and Chekov whooped and clapped him on the back, happily welcoming their friend into the circle of disqualified players. 

“I got nothing,” Uhura admitted, tossing her cards and leaning back with her arms crossed. 

“Same here,” Bones growled. 

“I have a half fizzbin, captain,” Spock said as he showed his hand. Kirk’s eyes locked with his, and he raised an eyebrow. Yet again, Spock managed to best him. Kirk was determined to beat his closest friend, and tonight was supposed to be the night he finally did so. However, even Spock wasn’t prepared for the imminent loss that both captain and first officer would soon share.

“Royal fizzbin!” Jaylah shouted, slamming her cards down onto the table with a toothy snarl of victory. True to her word, all of the cards were there. All eyes across the table went wide with shock, save for Spock’s. They had never seen a royal fizzbin before, and yet there it was, plain as day. Jaylah stood from her seat and laughed, relishing her surprise victory over her superior officers. 

“I’ll be damned,” McCoy muttered under his breath. “How are there even enough kings in the deck for that to happen?”

“Beats me, Bones,” Kirk chuckled. He stood from his chair and stretched his arms behind his back; eliciting a small pop. “But I think I’m all fizzbinned out for tonight. I’m gonna hit the sack. Mister Sulu, around when do you think we’ll arrive at our destination tomorrow?”

“We should reach Eminar VII not long after you get back to the bridge tomorrow morning, captain,” Sulu said as he set about shuffling the deck of cards. Kirk nodded.

“Glad to hear it,” He said. He reached the turbo lift and, leaning against the rear wall of it, ascended. As the doors slid shut in front of him, he caught a brief glimpse of Sulu dealing out another hand. They’d be exhausted once alpha shift started up again, but in the meantime he was just glad that his crew were enjoying themselves. The sounds of laughter followed him a ways up the lift shaft, and the captain closed his eyes and thought of how nice a few hours of sleep sounded. Perhaps, if we was lucky, he’d be able to revisit that dream from a week prior; the one with the trill countess and the giant castle… That would be nice, he thought.

*************************************************************************************************************

“Captain’s log. Stardate 2264.5. The Enterprise-A finds herself, and her crew, orbiting the planet Eminar VII. We’re here for diplomatic purposes. Our orders: to negotiate a peace treaty between the Eminians and their neighbors, the Vendikarians. They’ve been at war for centuries, far longer than any previous war that humanity has bore witness to. I try to remain optimistic under the worst of circumstances, but I must admit… I find myself unable to say with utmost certainty that we’ll be able to successfully negotiate a permanent ceasefire. I can only hope that I prove myself wrong.”

Kirk sighed, and tapped the button on his chair’s console, which ended the recording and filed it away in the ship’s computer banks. By the end of the month down on Earth, Starfleet would have received the entirety of his logs for the past half year of the five year journey. But in the meantime, they were staring down at Eminar VII from the bridge’s viewscreen. It didn’t look all that different from Earth, from this distance. Same green continents, same blue oceans, same white clouds covering up large swaths of the planet’s surface. But he knew that, down below, it was anything but. Earth hadn’t experienced an out and out war on the planet’s surface in ages. Eminar was currently locked into one which had claimed billions upon billions of lives, and which seemed to be inescapable. 

“Captain? I’m receiving word from the Eminians,” Uhura alerted him, turning in her chair to look at the slouching, gold-shirted figure. Kirk nodded his head and scratched his cheek with one finger. 

“Are they ready for us?” He asked, eyes still firmly locked onto the planet. 

“They are,” She said. She paused, glanced at her monitor, then looked back to Kirk. “They said they’ll allow a delegation of seven to beam down. They’ve just given us coordinates, and a guide will meet us when we arrive.”

“Mm. Alright then,” Kirk said, pressing a finger to his lips as he considered who to bring with him. After a moment of thought, he stood from his chair and turned to look at Uhura. “Uhura, Spock, Chekov, you’re with me. And Uhura, call Jaylah, Scotty and Bones and tell them to meet us in the transporter bay. Mister Sulu, you have the bridge.”

“Aye captain.”

The chosen three followed Kirk to the turbo lift, wordlessly piling on into it and exchanging a brief look amongst themselves as it whirred quietly around them. Chekov fiddled awkwardly with the hem of his shirt, and Kirk leaned back against the wall of the lift, yawning silently. Uhura’s arm found its way around Spock’s waist, and the captain smirked. 

“So, I didn’t miss any fun last night, did I?” He asked, breaking the tension with all the subtlety of a charging rhinoceros. Spock blinked, and tilted his head ever so slightly. Uhura coughed and looked away, and Chekov blushed. 

“Nothing of particular note, captain,” Spock said. 

“Oh I’m sure it wasn’t terribly interesting, Mister Spock. I’m just curious is all. Who won the last round of fizzbin?”

“I did,” Spock said, maintaining his cool and modest composure. However, Kirk took note of a slight twitch of his science officer’s fingers, which were held behind his back in classic fashion. 

“And after?”

“U-um,” Chekov stammered, glancing nervously to Uhura, who shook her head and glared, pressuring him to maintain silence. “Nothing really, captain. Sulu went to bed, and then-”

“The rest of us engaged in recreational sexual activity,” Spock stated plainly. Uhura threw her head back and groaned, while Chekov’s flushed cheeks grew even more red, and the poor lieutenant looked down at his feet as an intense wave of shame washed over him.

Kirk simply chuckled, and gently shook his head. “If I had known an orgy was about to break out, I’d have stayed awake a little while longer,” He admitted with a sly grin. “Just you guys, or…?”

“Zahra and M’Ress joined partway through,” Chekov contributed, even though it earned him yet another glare from Uhura. “The captain asked!” He claimed in defense of his actions. Or at least, his actions in the current moment, not the ones from the night before. Although, Pavel thought with a slight smile, everybody seemed to have enjoyed _those_ actions.

Uhura breathed a sigh of relief when the turbolift doors opened and they were joined by Bones and Jaylah, who slotted themselves in between Kirk and Chekov, at the cost of pushing the meek, yet oddly boastful lieutenant into the corner. Uhura was just glad to drop the line of conversation. 

“Jim,” McCoy said with a nod. Kirk smiled and nodded back. McCoy looked at him, and squinted briefly, before scowling. “Which one of you bastards told him?” He very visibly suppressed the urge to launch into a tirade against Spock when the vulcan raised his hand. “Should have guessed,” He grumbled as Kirk patted him on the shoulder.

“Now now Bones, it’s alright. I don’t mind being left out every once in a while” Kirk said, fighting against a laugh. “As long as at least a few of you were thinking of me,” He teased.

“I was mostly thinking about Zahra’s-”

“_Chekov_,” Uhura hissed. The lieutenant threw his hands up in a gesture of innocence, but it didn’t spare him from his third withering glare of the ride down. His eyes shot towards the door to the turbolift as it opened one more time, bringing them to the transporter bay, where Scotty was already waiting. The engineer was sitting beside petty officer T’Perr, and he perked up when he saw his fellow senior officers (and Jaylah). 

“Captain,” The scot said with a warm, friendly smile as he stood from his seat. “Must be a tight fit, packin’ six of ye into the lift like that, yeah?”

“Oh, we all had a great time,” Kirk said as they filed on out of the turbolift. Uhura was still bristling with thinly veiled annoyance, and one could be easily forgiven for believing that Chekov was trying to collapse in on himself to create a russian sized singularity.

“We talked about our sex,” Jaylah explained casually as she stomped her way onto the transporter pad. Scotty looked from her to the smirking captain, and then to the prickly comms officer, before he burst out laughing. 

“Oh, that’s hilarious,” He gasped. “Must’a been one hell of a conversation!” 

“Can we please _drop_ the conversation?” Uhura asked with a sharp edge to her voice. One final glare, the kind that could intimidate a klingon warrior, got all of the others to acquiesce to her demands, and they stood in place on the transporter pad. T’Perr gave the officers (and Jaylah) a look that spoke volumes. She tapped a few buttons on the transporter console and pulled on the sliders. 

As the seven figures faded away into particles of snowy white light, T’Perr found herself wondering if she could put in a request to transfer over to the USS Excalibur. 

*************************************************************************************************************

Eminar VII was a bright and clean planet. Or at least, it appeared to be. Kirk knew that appearances could be deceiving. Oftentimes, the planets that seemed to be the most pleasant turned out to be the most sinister. What was surprising, Kirk found, was that there wasn’t even the most minor sign of war torn chaos in the city that they beamed down to. 

The seven of them stood outside of a shuttle docking bay, beneath a tall series of arches, which were a spotless grey in color. The grass, which was trimmed to the point of flawlessness, contrasted with paths of pure grey. Those paths, perfectly organized and maintained, were laid out in such a way that it was impossibly easy to follow them in search of any destination one might have. In the distance, past thin, cubic patterned walls and shallow rectangular pools of crystal clear water, were various buildings built into the shape of domes and towers. Jaylah took note of several civilians milling about. Most, if not all of them, wore long, colorful sashes, in a variety of patterns, that covered their chests and one shoulder, and which were held together via small emblems on the collar. 

“It is a beautiful place,” Jaylah commented as she looked around in wonder at the planet’s surface. It reminded her of San Francisco, back on Earth. 

“It is,” Kirk agreed. “And I can’t help but find that a little bit suspicious. Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Spock?”

“While I cannot speak with absolute certainty, captain, I do find it rather perplexing that there are little to no signs of the war that has supposedly ravaged this planet.”

Kirk made a brief humming noise, then caught sight of a small delegation that was heading their way. Several tall, broad shouldered men in what appeared to be military uniforms, led by a single woman with black hair swept into an updo, who was dressed much like the civilian population, with a green and blue toga-like sash covering her body. The soldiers, however, wore black bodysuits with a simple red diagonal pattern going from one leg up across their breast, and wrapping around the opposite shoulder. They wore small, horned hats, which Kirk couldn’t help but notice seemed to match the skyscrapers in the city. 

“You must be the Federation ambassadors,” The woman said. She spoke softly, and it didn’t take a genius to assume she was the Eminians’ diplomatic representative. 

“That would be correct,” Kirk said with a smile. “I’m captain James Kirk. Your people have already spoken with my communications officer, Lieutenant Uhura,” He said, gesturing to Nyota, who gave a short nod. 

“Indeed we have. My name is Briea 8. If you’ll follow me, captain, we can discuss the matter of the peace talks on our way to the Division of Control.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kirk motioned for his crew to follow him, as he in turn followed Briea 8 and her entourage. They walked closer into the heart of the city, which brought then further away from civilians. Kirk spotted fewer and fewer non-uniformed individuals as they neared the Eminian government’s central government facility. 

“We’re glad that the United Federation of Planets was able to send a delegation so soon,” Briea remarked, looking over her shoulder at Kirk. “When the subject of peace talks came up between our people and the Vendikarians, most of us didn’t believe it. We thought it was some sort of trap. I still don’t quite believe it myself. I feel like, at any moment, the Vendikarians are going to launch another attack on us.”

“When was the last attack?” Kirk asked, shooting a glance at the pristine government facility that was looming over them in the distance. 

“Two weeks ago.”

“And you’ve rebuilt already?”

“Hm? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, captain.” Briea turned her head forward again, and Kirk fell quiet. He didn’t like the feeling of this. A brief shared look with Spock told him that he wasn’t the only one. 

“When will the peace talks begin?” Kirk asked, switching tracks to a more prudent line of inquiry. 

“Tomorrow morning,” Briea told him. She approached the front entrance to the Division of Control and placed her hand on a pad that was set into the wall beside the door. The pad switched from yellow to purple, and the doors slid open. “We wanted to give both delegations time to settle in and get some rest before the Vendikarians arrive.”

Kirk paused on the other end of the doorway. Jaylah shifted in her boots beside him, a hand once again falling to her phaser, while the other went to the collapsable staff on her belt. 

“I’m sorry… _Both_ delegations?” Kirk asked, giving their guide a look. “Who else is coming?”

“Oh, they’re already here, captain,” Briea said with a gentle wave of her hand. She continued to lead them, and after a start Kirk and his crew followed again. They walked past several doorways, which led into rooms with blinking consoles and lights, and they passed several tall, cylindrical chambers that served some purpose Kirk couldn’t recognize. “They arrived just a few hours ago.”

As they rounded a corner, Kirk recalled an old human proverb. One that his mother had said, so many times, when he was young. Speak of the devil, and she shall appear. 

It seemed particularly relevant in that moment, he thought. They came around the corner, and they saw a woman leaning against a wall, with a long glass of water coming away from her lips. Her hair, dark and cropped, was short enough for her tapered ears to be easily visible. Her uniform, a short dress of pale gold with the right arm and side a deep purple, with a long violet sash draped over one shoulder, told Kirk everything he needed to know about the other delegation. 

But then she turned, and tilted her head slightly upwards as she observed him. She took another sip of water and her lips curled upwards into a cold, devious smile. 

“Captain James Kirk, of the Starship Enterprise.” She drew out each syllable slowly, taking care to sound equal parts intrigued and irked by his entrance to her life. 

“You’ve got me at a disadvantage here. You know who I am, but I’m afraid I don’t know who _you_ are,” Kirk said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous level. McCoy put a hand on his shoulder, and Kirk desperately wanted to shrug it off. It wouldn’t do to behave brashly, however, so the captain kept a lid on the curdling feeling in his gut.

“Commander Ael i-Mhiessan t’Rllaillieu, of the Imperial Warbird Bloodwing. It is a _pleasure_ to make your acquaintance, captain. Jolan tru.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to kudos and comment! I thrive on commentary!


End file.
